They still balked, muttering excuses.
Fergus snorted.“Hell.I’ll go myself if ye’re a bunch o’ milksops.”
“Nay, m’laird.”
“’Tis too risky.”
“Don’t be a halfwit,” one man said, taking hold of Fergus’s arm.“Ye can’t go, m’laird.”
“Who are ye callin’ a halfwit?”Fergus roared, pulling his arm away.“I can and I will.”
“I’ll go,” Adam volunteered.“And I’ll keep the laird safe.”
His men were drunk, but not that drunk.They understood the risk of venturing into enemy territory, where they were outnumbered.They also weren’t about to leave their laird in the hands of a mercenary they barely knew.
Two of them reluctantly agreed to go.The other two said they’d watch from the wall walk with bows and arrows at the ready.
Adam wasn’t worried about the two atop the wall walk.It was too dark for archery, even if they hadn’t been too drunk to aim.
He was most concerned about the two guards who’d agreed to accompany him.They were the least drunk of the four.They would be the hardest to manage.
Fortunately, Adam was a Rivenloch by birth.Though he’d chosen a different path from his kin, he’d been raised a warrior.He knew how to handle guards.
It was full dark when the four agitators slipped out of the keep.They couldn’t risk bringing a lit brand to start the fire.So the two guards were armed with flint, steel, and straw.
They were also armed with swords.
Adam carried a dagger.Inside his hauberk he’d tucked a large square of white linen.
A quarter of the way toward the king’s camp, Adam made his move with fluid stealth.
In one graceful movement, he unsheathed his dagger and set it at Fergus’s throat while with his other hand, he drew Fergus’s sword and tossed it away.He turned to the two guards before Fergus even had a chance to gasp in surprise.
The guards instinctively drew their swords.
Adam shook his head.They could see he had Fergus at his mercy.One wee slip of the dagger, and the laird’s life would end.
“Traitor,” one of the guards bit out.“We should ne’er have trusted ye.”
The other quietly fumed.
“Toss your weapons away,” Adam whispered.
They only tightened their grips.
“Toss them away,” he repeated with deadly calm, “or I’ll slay your laird.”
Fergus tensed.“Drop your weapons,” he begged in a voice strangled by fear.“Do it.”
They reluctantly complied.
“Now return to the keep,” Adam murmured, “unless you want to be slaughtered by the royal guard.”
They hesitated.
“Go,” Fergus said through clenched teeth.
Adam watched them leave.When he was confident they wouldn’t return, he continued toward the king’s encampment with his hostage.
